


A Monumentally Stupid Idea.

by Cip



Series: Life is never gentle [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caught, FrostIron - Freeform, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Shameless Smut, Tony Does What He Wants, shouldn't be doing this, that poor sofa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cip/pseuds/Cip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has always been full of stupid ideas. This is one of the worst he's ever had, but there comes a point when he just doesn't care. After all, who would say no to the Norse God of mischief? Frostiron, shameless PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Monumentally Stupid Idea.

  


**Monumentally stupid ideas.**

This was possibly the most monumentally _stupidest_ idea Tony had had in a very long time.

Worse than challenging Thor to a drinking contest (hey, the guy once almost drank up the ocean!). Worse than trying to out-run Steve on a treadmill (Tony had ended up in hospital with a torn tendon and a severely bruised ego). Worse still than when he’d asked if Natasha’s roots were showing (and how was he to know that that ridiculous shade was _real_??? Honestly!).

Nope. This took the biscuit, the man who made the biscuit and the whole bakery along with it.

And if this went _wrong_ then it might also take a large part of the Manhattan area up with it too. In flames. And smoke. And screaming. And would quite possibly involve a lot of magic.

But as stupid as doing this was, he doubted he had the choice in stopping and to be honest, he rather didn’t _want_ to stop. After all, this was a Bucket List entry if there ever was one!

Sprawled across a large sofa in the living room of the Tower-Formally-known-as-Stark’s, facing the whole world through the penthouse windows Tony had found himself with a lap-full of lustful and downright _horny_ Norse God.

Who was he to complain?

Who was he to complain about accidently bumping into his favourite super villain whilst absolutely plastered on a night out? Who was he to complain that Loki had been just as drunk and just as uninhibited? And who was he to complain that they had inexplicably woken up next to each other the next morning, naked and in Tony’s bed with no recollection of what had happened what-so-ever?

And he would certainly _never_ complain about the fact that Loki had been so hungover that when he’d tried instinctively to fire a bolt of magic at a similarly suffering Tony all that happened was a pathetic sizzling sound and less sparks than a balloon on a cat would have caused.

Quite how all of that had morphed into weekly visits was something the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist had yet to fully understand. 

But who was he to complain?

And that had led them to this. Possibly Tony’s best and absolute _worst_ idea to date and something that by _God_ he was not going to stop now!

It went without saying that no-one knew of their encounters together. Loki was Public Enemy Number One with a S.H.I.E.L.D order over his head to shoot on sight, and Tony was an elite member of a superhero team supposedly hell-bent on carrying out said shooting. So yeah, neither were going to let slip any time soon that rather than fighting to their deaths they were spending their evenings breaking Tony’s bed.

Well, except for this evening of course, when Tony had had his oh so idiotic wonderful idea of playing the risk game and staying in a public room in the building. Granted the risk was not quite as high as it appeared; the tower was – after all – over one hundred stories high and currently housing only the six Avengers. Hopefully the chances of one of them deciding to go into the pent-house living room at two AM were remote but there was still the thrill that they _could_ get caught.

And didn’t that just make it all the more _delicious_! 

And so Tony was sprawled across the sofa, one leg up on the cushions, and with the God of mischief straddling him. Never let it be said that Tony Stark was unadventurous in his choice of bed-partners.

And he was also under no illusions when said bed-partner was entirely in control despite how he often let Tony top.

He was distracted from the hazy train of thought by sudden sharp teeth breaking through the skin of his bottom lip, drawing him back to the here and now.

“You were thinking.” Loki said disdainfully in response to the glare he received. “Thinking is not your priority here, I am.”

“Yeah, the whole demanding thing; not cool.” The genius swiped his tongue over the small cut, tasting blood as he did so. Well, it wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before. In retaliation he dropped his hands from Loki’s waist to the firm thighs on either side of his own legs, kneading the muscles through those _ridiculous_ leather trousers that all Asgardian’s seemed to favour.

Ridiculous leather trousers that never-the-less showcased the trickster’s rear so well that Tony had never once mentioned how retro they were. Anyway, retro was cool when you had the arse for it, which, oh, Loki most certainly did.

There was another nip of sharp teeth.

“You’re thinking again!” The hiss was hardly threatening as the Asgardian wound both arms round the human’s neck, lifting himself up on his knees to loom over Tony as their mouths met again.

It could hardly be called a kiss. Rather an all-out war as the two men fought each other for dominance over the hold, Loki using his height and Tony using every trick he’d picked up over the years of such encounters. Nipping, sucking, tongues twining furiously. Loki’s hands had moved to cup either side of Stark’s face, holding him in place, nails digging in to leave crescent indentations in the soft skin.

It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t gentle and neither of them wanted it to be. These encounters were about blowing off some steam and getting the satisfaction they both craved, no more and no less.

Tony had braced one of his hands against the small of Loki’s back, holding the God steady and at the same time pulling him in closer so that they were chest-to-chest with barely breathing room between them. His other hand still rested on the trickster’s thigh, but as Loki seemed to have either ignored or forgotten it’s presence Tony moved it up to cup the swell of the God’s buttocks and squeezed hard.

That, as usual, did the trick.

Loki broke away with a gasp, his eyes flint-like as he glared at the mirth on his companion’s face. “Stark…!”

“Don’t even _pretend_ you don’t like it.” Tony drawled, repeating the motion. He smirked at the sharp intake of breath it caused and added a slap for good measure.

“I am a _God_ -”

“-Who’s about to be fucked into this sofa, so don’t pull that line on me.”

Loki’s hand curled around the inventor’s throat. “You realise just how _easily_ I can kill you, don’t you?” He hissed.

“Uh, yeah. But where’s the fun in that?” And since when had Tony ever played it safe? Besides, the God had threatened to kill him so many times during these encounters that it had become just another part of their foreplay. He figured that as long as the grip on his throat still allowed him to talk then he hadn’t pushed the limits of Loki’s temper. Instead he smiled winningly and moved the offensive hand away and up to tug out the hem of the shirt that was tucked into the God’s trousers. 

The green eyes continued to glare daggers, but only up to the point that Tony wriggled his fingers underneath the waistband of said trousers and then down to dig his nails into the flesh of Loki’s rear. 

There were two choices infront of the trickster and that was to either continue fighting and prolong the encounter, or give in at this point and let Stark lead purely to move things along quicker.

The first certainly afforded him more dignity, but it wouldn’t have been the first time that he was on his knees for the genius. He knew a response either one way or the other was expected of him and as the nails dug into him again he decided to not draw things out and instead just allowed himself to enjoy the flash of pleasure that the action drew.

Tony knew how the rest of the night would go when his partner groaned and relaxed into the grip he had on him. Had Loki fought him then he was well aware that he’d have been on his back within minutes with the God taking whatever he wanted from the encounter. As it was the Asgardian had conceded dominance this time; not unheard of between them since even super-villains like to let go every now and then.

With the ball now firmly in his park, and hopefully staying there, Tony removed his hand from Loki’s trousers then slid both up under the God’s shirt, bringing the garment with them. Thankfully – after one too many very frustrating moments – Loki had taken to removing all the armour and paraphernalia _before_ they started, so all Tony had to deal with were the more normal pieces of clothing that he _did_ know how to tackle. It had sped things up considerably. 

In the comfort of his own room, Tony usually had no qualms about both of them stripping off entirely, but being out in a public living space made him a little more cautious and he decided against removing Loki’s shirt. Instead his fingers found the trickster’s nipple underneath the material and without any teasing or preamble he pinched and twisted. Hard.

Loki let out a deep moan, pressing into the firm contact as his own hands tugged at Tony’s short hair. He moved his head to seek out the mortal’s mouth again, worrying at the inventor’s lower lip with his teeth until Tony growled and he broke away with a harsh laugh.

“Damnit, that hurt!” Tony released the trickster entirely from his hold as he tried to feel the damage done to his mouth.

“Relax, Stark, it barely broke the skin.” The sneering condescension in Loki’s tone was all too clear and the inventor scowled at the smirking God.

“Skin which I happen to like.” There was a mutinous look in Stark’s glare that – had Loki known him better – spelt out trouble. In spades. “You know, I think I’m going to have to do something to sort that pretty mouth out; I’d like to still have a lower lip left by the end of this.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, then both when his partner pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket.

“Open up, sunshine.”

“Stark, you _have_ to be joking.”

This only garnered an eye-roll. “Well, if I had the choice I would have gone with that metal gag thing Thor used when he took you off our hands, but I don’t have it on me right now, so this will have to do. Open up.” When he didn’t receive either a reply or compliance he sighed theatrically. “Look, Capricorn, you let me win this time, therefore my game, my rules. You got to tie me to the bed last time; I get to stop you chewing my face off this time. Fair’s fair.”

Loki scowled, then grudgingly allowed Tony to push the piece of material into his mouth, going so far back as to almost block his throat. He made a splutter of protest, hands flying up to at least make it somewhat more comfortable but his wrists were caught in a tight grip. Of course, it would have been but the work of a _thought_ to use his magic to change the situation, but the whole _point_ of this was not doing as such. He _could_ use his magic, but he wouldn’t. Just as Stark _could_ call for the rest of the Avengers, but he wouldn’t.

Tony felt the tricksters arms go slack in his grip and released him, trying not to laugh at the down-right _petulant_ expression he was now seeing. However, he knew damn well that it had not done anything to lessen Loki’s want to participate. On the contrary, where the God still straddled him, full weight – and he was _heavy_ for such a skinny bastard! – across Tony’s thighs the genius could feel the growing bulge against his stomach where the Asgardian’s crotch was pressed against him.

It was times like this – he mused – that it worked in his favour that Loki was taller than him. With one hand on the Asgardian’s back to keep him in place Tony slipped his other hand down between them to palm the warm lump nudging insistently against him. At the same time he nosed aside the collar of Loki’s shirt to attack the side of the God’s neck – aiming for the spot just above his collar-bone. It always amazed him how such pale skin could still feel so warm. He knew of the Jotun heritage thing – Thor had informed them all – but there was no hint of any coldness or ice that could have been expected.

Worrying at the patch of skin with his teeth to draw out a bruise – which no doubt would be healed the moment Loki left – he kneaded the firm bulge under his hand, probably with less care than he would have used on another partner, but still mindful of what he was doing. No-one wants a pissed off God of mischief seeking vengeance after all.

However, the less-than-gentle approach was usually what Loki demanded from him and this time was no exception when the God arched into the touch with a muffled groan that sent sparks straight to Tony’s own groin. He chuckled, breath skittering across the newly formed bruise as he squeezed again, harder this time and it drew a deep growl from the trickster.

“If only Shield could see you now.”

Tony received a dark glare for that comment, but it only made him smirk back.

“So, since I’m in charge here, we’re doing this _my_ way. You drew it out far too long last time and as fun as it was it also took forever. Not happening this time. So up-” He pushed at Loki’s hips to persuade the other man into standing up, “-and get those pants off.”

The God rose gracefully to his feet, but pulled the gag out of his mouth first, dropping it to the floor in disgust.

“Your eloquence, as ever, astounds me Stark.” He said coolly, his eyes flickering over the man’s tousled hair and swollen lip. “You know, if Shield could see _you_ now then they might be surprised.”

Tony shrugged. “Eh, I’ve done worse.” Since Loki was showing no signs of removing his trousers the genius leaned forwards and pulled him closer by the hips so that to keep his balance the God was forced to rest one knee on the sofa. “You Asgardian’s have _got_ to learn what zips are!” Tony began unlacing the fastening as Loki chuckled at the comment. “Seriously, who the hell thinks that this is the most efficient way to secure a pair of pants?!”

“Do you seriously want to get into a discussion on the merits of Asgardian dress-making?” Stepping back again Loki finished pulling the leather tie out himself before devoiding himself of both trousers and underwear in one go.

“I can think of other things I’d rather be doing right now.” Tony’s gaze was pulled down to the erection not quite hidden under Loki’s shirt and he grinned when he looked back up to meet the God’s gaze. “And by the way, just because I’m always looking for ways to spice things up; I didn’t bring any lube.” His grin became a smirk. “Up to you how you want to play it.”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, before – much to Tony’s disconcertion – answering with a feral grin of his own. “Oh, I can think of a way.”

The inventor wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting from that comment – magic lube possibly? – but it _did_ come as a surprise when Loki stepped back closer, gracefully dropped to his knees and smirked up at him. The God made short work of the fastenings on Tony’s jeans and pulled them open to find the genius had decided against underwear for the evening.

“Sometimes I think you have no dignity at all, Stark.”

That garnered a huff of laughter. “Says the one on his knees.” The mortal reached out to tangle his hand into the long dark hair. “Well, show me what it is to have dignity then, oh mighty one.” His imperious tone and ridiculous attempt at mimicking Loki’s own accent made the trickster snort with unbecoming amusement. 

“Very well then.”

Tony let his head fall back to rest on the sofa cushion he lent against as Loki’s mouth suddenly closed over him and he let out an involuntary groan. There is something enormously arousing about watching the most powerful and – going by some schools of thought – bag-of-cats crazy super villain in the world on his knees, submitting to someone else. Tony was under no allusions of who was actually in control, after all, the most sensitive part of his body was currently in the mouth of his supposed enemy and therefore all too close to said enemy’s teeth. Actually he decided to amend that thought with a deep moan from enemy’s _mouth_ to enemy’s _throat_. Dear God, Loki was good at that! A few quick swallowing motions that pulsed along the length of his erection and Tony was hauling the God back up to kiss him harshly, more than ready to press on.

The urgency in the movement must have come across because Loki chuckled darkly against his lips.

“Eager are we, Stark?” The words were almost unintelligible as they spilled directly from one mouth to the other, the tricksters knees moving onto the sofa to straddle Tony again. Loki’s sneering comment broke off with a gasp as he felt a warm hand, callused from working metal and machinery for so long, grip his own pulsing erection and give a single firm stroke.

“No more so than you.” Tony let go of the warm flesh and trailed his hand down the back of the trickster’s thigh only for his wrist to be caught in a vice-like grip. “Seriously? Now what?”

“I can not be bothered drawing this out any longer. I would have you take me now.”

The genius snorted. “Without preparation? Your funeral.”

He received a scathing glare in return. “I do not need one such as you to worry about me.”

“Who said I was worrying, I’m just not that into necrophilia.” 

The God’s voice became a low hiss, his eyes gleaming dangerously with lust and impatience. “Do not, for one moment, forget who and what I am, Stark. If you think that such a small thing as this could do harm to me than I have obviously severely underestimated your intelligence.”

And let it never be said that Tony Stark didn’t listen to the wishes of his bed-mate. If Loki was masochistic enough to forgo preparation that was no skin off of Tony’s back and certainly wasn’t going to be his problem either. He removed both hands from the God’s hips and slouched back into the sofa cushions, arms slung out across the back of it. 

“Go on then, get to work, Princess.” The unspoken words ‘I dare you’ were very obvious in his shit-eating grin and the triumphant gleam in his eyes. Then there were two hands on either side of Tony’s throat, squeezing and Loki was leaning up over him with a dark growl.

“You are going to regret calling me _princess_!” The sentence was spat out as the God crushed their mouths together, releasing his strangle hold on the mortal’s neck in favour of gripping his hair hard enough to hurt. At the same time one of his hands moved down to steady himself against Tony chest enough to ease himself onto the genius’s straining erection until he was fully seated in his partners lap.

Their mouths were still melded together in a furious war so Tony’s reaction came out only as a muffled groan. Damn but it was _tight_! Tight and hot and _so fucking good_. His fingers found Loki’s hips again, digging in until he knew that it would leave bruises. At the same time he could feel the God’s knees pressed into either side of his thighs, tense and trembling. The tiny part of Tony’s brain still dealing with current events noted that it was probably that tenseness that was making Loki so much tighter than he usually was. The genius had been on the receiving end enough times before – with this particular partner as well as others – to know how much penetration could hurt if done carelessly. And Loki had been more than careless; he’d been downright reckless with how he’d gone about it.

As much as the urge was there to simply thrust into the excruciating heat Tony managed to break aware from his partner’s mouth.

“Hey, you’re gonna need to relax if you don’t want to do some long-term damage.” He rasped. He didn’t receive a reply, only Loki’s teeth suddenly sinking into his shoulder as if to muffle any response. “You know; if you don’t reply I’m not going to be able to hold onto this much longer and then you’ll be in a world of hurt.” To prove the point he rocked his hips slightly and Loki moaned loudly. “See?”

That garnered a more legible reaction as the God released the mouthful of Tony’s shoulder and rested his cheek against the bite-mark, chest heaving. “I never…said I…was in pain, Stark.” He murmured, “That was merely…quite intense.”

Intense? If that’s what he wanted to call being split in half then who was Tony to say otherwise?

“You good for me to move then, princess?”

Ah, that did the trick. 

Loki lifted his head up, fury in his gaze at the nick-name. Without warning he raised himself up in the inventors lap, almost completely pulling away from Tony’s erection before slamming himself back down, the action drawing loud groans from the both of them.

“Do _not_ call me princess!” He snarled, and even he found that it was hard to tell if the tightness in his voice was due to his anger, pain or terrible arousal. 

For a moment their gazes met, a silent battle of pride and stubbornness creating a heady mixture with the testosterone and lust flying around them.

Then Tony grinned.

“Okay then.” 

Mr Stark was a strong man. Maybe not when he was standing next to Captain America or Thor, but when put in context of ordinary men, he was a strong man. And yes, Loki was heavy, but not so heavy that Tony couldn’t suddenly slip his hands down to cup underneath the God’s buttocks to hold him steady before rolling the both of them over.

The action meant that Loki ended up lying on his back on the sofa, his hips held up in Ironman’s hands as the inventor knelt on the thick-piled Persian rug. Who would have thought someone designed these sofas at _just_ the right height for such things?

Tony didn’t waste any time, pulling back then slamming his hips forwards into that tight clenching heat with a low groan. Were it anyone else, he might have been somewhat more gentle, but this was _Loki_ after all; they were still enemies even if they weren’t behaving as such right now.

As it was, even if he had given a damn about whether the trickster was okay those thoughts were banished as Loki lifted his legs up to wrap around the billionaires waist, changing the angle of Tony’s penetration. The effort must have been worth it because his breathing had broken into harsh panting gasps, one hand reaching up to tangle in his partner’s hair, the other curling around his own neglected erection.

“Uhh…Stark…” The words and sounds left Loki’s mouth but he was at the point where he didn’t care anymore. He was always the vocal one out of the two of them, it usually took something extra special for him to draw more than a groan from Tony. “Stark, nearly...faster… _faster_ damn you!”

Tony huffed a quiet laugh, leaning forward to bury his head in the God’s shoulder as he complied. “You’re,” thrust, “So”, thrust, “ _Demanding_!”

He received something that could have been a chuckle but sounded far more like a moan in reply and took it to mean that he had complied with said demand. The angle was good, the height was good, the view was _more_ than good to have the trickster all splayed out infront of him and it gave him easy access to knock Loki’s hand out of the way and take over stroking his partner.

And then even those thoughts were banished from his mind as he heard what could only be described as a pathetic whine from underneath him and suddenly the walls around his erection were pulsing as Loki arched up into him with a cry.

It wasn’t in Stark’s interests to care about the trickster’s pleasure so he continued shamelessly thrusting through Loki’s orgasm, which only made the God cling to him like a limpet, digging his teeth back into the bite wound he’d left earlier. The little spark of pain was enough to get Tony to the point where he was no longer controlling what his hips were doing and he was gasping a single stream of:

“Yes, nearly…so close…so… _Ughh_ …Loki… _Loki_!”

With a final grunt and a very undignified shuddering of his hips Tony finally found his own release, collapsing over the Norse God as his vision tunnelled in. 

For a long moment to the two simply lay there, both attempting to regain their breath. The trickster slumped back into the cushions, the tenseness finally leaving him. Tony was still kneeling on the floor, his upper body sprawled across Loki’s as one of the God’s thighs rested on his shoulder and the other spread wide to brush his arm. He could feel Loki’s heaving breath under his arms as he folded them across the pale stomach and could almost hear the thundering pulse in the femoral artery next to his ear.

For a moment – just a tiny beautiful moment – they could stop fighting and just _relax_.

“Anthony Edward Stark!” The shrill scream was accompanied by the smashing of a glass on the tiled floor and caused both hero and villain to sit bolt upright.

Pepper was standing in the doorway, a broken water-glass at her feet and possibly the most _furious_ expression Tony had ever seen on her face. Incandescent was too small a word.

“What in the name of all sanity do you think you are doing?!”

It was far too soon for his mind to begin processing things like that – although he retained enough brain-power to notice Loki was looking just as horrified as he was, tugging his shirt down as far as it would go to try and retain some form of modesty. _Heh. Cute._

And then the God simply vanished.

No smoke, no words, no dramatics, just gone.

And all Tony could think of was how much of a monumentally _stupid_ idea it had been to have sex in the living room.

_Fin._


End file.
